September Writing Club Collection
by Carolare Scarletus
Summary: Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments); Writing Club (September): Book club, #6; SLASH-September: Scorpius/Teddy ii. Collection of Drabbles & Shorts.
1. Letting go of the Past

**Important:** Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments); Writing Club (September): Book club, #6; SLASH-September: Scorpius/Teddy ii.

 **House:** Slytherin

 **Prompts:** **(relationship) boyfriend, (trait) talkative, (au) dancer, (action) smiling, (dialogue) "Is it because I'm obviously more gay than you?", (drink) beer**

 **Word count:** 933( Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Entry and Title)

 **Warning:** This is an AU (Alternate Universe) piece.

 **Characters:** Scorpius Malfoy; Teddy Lupin (ii)

 **Author's Note:** I've decided to make these a series of Drabbles and shorts. They will be updated regularly, seeing that the end of the month is nearing and I need to get as much as my Writing Club submissions in. Hope y'all like them!

As always, enjoy.

-Carolare Scarletus

* * *

"Truth or dare," he asked,

Scorpius Malfoy drew a thoughtful line across his bottom lip. He'd been too preoccupied with a muggle beer to noticed when he first slipped into the bar, but as soon as he felt his magic, he was determined to find him. When he did, he immediately set to work. No, half-hammered and already on their second pint of beer, he was beginning to think that this night would get even better. That is if Teddy Lupin wasn't so hard to get.

Smiling, Scorpius said," Truth."

"Are you really a stripper?"

"Dance instructor," he couldn't help correct with a dry chuckle. "Strippers get paid good money to dance around in nothing but their birthday suits."

"And, what do dance instructors get paid with?"

"Getting the pleasure to watch hot men like yourself use the moves we taught them."

Teddy's face turned crimson, and he turned around to face the liquor behind the bar. Scorpius watched him carefully, before turning to nurse his chalice of beer. He took three long pulls from it, already feeling the effects of the smuggled alcohol. Leave it to his friend to recommend a place disguised as a normal pub. He'd only had a few drinks and he already had a good buzz going on.

Ah, well. Might as well continue on with it.

"I always imagined you'd be a stripper…"

"Is it because I'm obviously more gay than you?" Scorpius chuckled, taking another pull from his pin. "I'm kidding, Teddy. Your turn, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Teddy immediately picked.

Frowning, Scorpius asked, "Have you always been this talkative?"

Teddy looked at him, smiling. "Of course not. It probably has something to do with you."

"Come on, mate," Scorpius laughed, pulling himself up in his chair before looking at him again. "I've done nothing. My parents think I'm mad for dropping everything back in London and pursuing this dance gig. Other than that, I've got nothing going for me. Besides get hammered every night and talking to you, I haven't accomplished shit."

"Is that really what you believe?"

Scorpius shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.

"I don't recall asking you for the truth?"

"What if I told you it was a dare?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Anyway, it's the truth. It was more so my grandparents. You know, they're not really fond that my dad married a Muggleborn. They put so much stress on me while I was going up, even though dad didn't want anything to do with their ideologies. It's your turn by the way."

Teddy thought for a moment before asking," Truth or dare, would you ever go back?"

Scorpius barked in laughter. "Why in bloody hell would I do that? I have a decent job, my own flat, plus I don't have parents nagging me all the time. I suppose I'm doing well living on my own. How about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Scorpius looked at him, hoping he wouldn't be scared off by his question. "How'd you ever end up in a place like this?"

"What do you mean? Bartending?"

"No, I mean that," Scorpius jutted his chin toward the back room. Anyone within hear-shot would be able to hear the erotic sounds escaping the closed door, and he wondered if Teddy missed the gig he had. It wasn't Scorpius' first time visiting the kid. It certainly wouldn't be his last, either. He was a good listener. Even he craved that kind of commitment. "Selling your body for money."

"I end up on some hard times," Teddy shrugged, taking another drink.

He was avoiding the question.

"Come on, now." Scorpius prodded. "It's part of the game. Tell me the truth, you've got to."

Teddy bit his lip, and for a split second Scorpius wondered what it would be like to do it for him. He'd never been completely into men. He'd dabbled with countless women in school, and on rare occasions, he shagged a couple of blokes but could never seem to find a nice medium. Women were clingy, not that men weren't within their own rights. Who knows, maybe everything was wrong with him? Scorpius liked to believe that there was someone out there whose own demons played well with his. He hoped Teddy could be that person, but it looked now to be a fleeting wish.

"We shouldn't have come back."

"Of course we should have," Scorpius hissed in perplexity.

It should've surprised him to find Teddy there, giving the circumstances that led to this night. When he first got to Paris, he stumbled upon this pub and immediately grew attached to the bloke. To say he was coerced to talk to him because of a deep-seated need to dominate him and protect him. Had he known this the sort of relationship that would've bloomed during his late nights wasting his life away with beer, Scorpius would've laughed. To say that Teddy was the best thing that ever happened to him would be an understatement. These little games of theirs fueled him and gave him purpose.

In a blink of an eye, Teddy was gone.

At the sight of his retreating back, Scorpius stood as well, leaving a hefty tip to their bartender before running to chase after him. Teddy didn't get too far before he slumped against the wall just outside the bar's entrance. Scooping him up in his arms, Scorpius Apparated them away before anyone noticed them. There, at their flat, Scorpius held them until the tears stopped and Teddy apologized to him for wanting to play this silly game with him.


	2. Tightrope

**Important:** Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments); Writing Club (September):Amber's Attic, #1; SLASH-September: Regulus/Charlie

 **House:** Slytherin

 **Word count:** 919( Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Entry and Title)

 **Warning:** This is an AU (Alternate Universe) piece.

 **Characters:** Regulus Black; Charlie Weasley

* * *

 **Tightrope**

Charlie Weasley stared out the window, a solemn expression marring his otherwise flawless face. He'd come back from a long night a patrolling and was looking to relax before the pull of sleep took him away from the comfortable haven he'd procured for himself. While on patrol, he'd discovered something remarkably interesting about the new guard that had him quarreling with his senses. Never in his wildest dreams would be so affected by another person, especially someone as dark and disinterested as Regulus Black

He'd been introduced to Regulus just last month. Normally, Charlie wouldn't have cared about the Royals. In fact, he didn't seem to care about anything at all but one short conversation with him had him questioning everything he'd ever believed in. There had been something striking about the young heir that had Charlie contemplating some very dark, yet exceedingly honest thoughts.

Below the window that overlooked the grand estate, he could just make out a carriage as it sailed away in the distance. In there, he imaged bitterly, was the Countess of Whales. She'd recently spent the month with them as a guest of honor. Poor Regulus had to show her around and cater to her every whim. It was clear to Charlie that he detested the woman. He couldn't help chuckle recalling one favorable afternoon and the garden in which they took their morning tea. Needless to say, Charlie would never look at him quite the same way again.

"Damnable woman!" Regulus' voice carried through the otherwise deserted corridor.

Charlie immediately stood guard, moving away from the window he'd been stationed at for the last three moons.

"If she _ever_ comes here again-"

"Good evening Master Regulus." Charlie interrupted his tirade.

The black-haired man stopped in his tracks and looked at him as if he'd seen a ghost. As soon as he recognized him, Regulus sighed in relief and relieved him of his position. Charlie immediately dropped his guard, though keeping vigilance had proven to be a difficult thing in the past. There was something about Regulus that made Charlie lose his mind.

"I am presuming you heard all of that, yes?"

"No, sir. Only the end of it."

Regulus nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me, Weasley. What would you do if you were engaged to an abominable woman as the Countess of Whales?"

"Sir, I-"

"Come on, man!" He bellowed, his voice carrying down the corridor in spirited waves. "It is only the two of us. Among men, what would you do with her?"

"Is she not ten years older than you?"

"Ten years older than me, yes. Time has not been kind to her, and it goes to show that age is nothing but a number. " Regulus scoffed, threading his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I just can't seem to rid myself of her. This alliance between our nations is driving me insane, and all because the old hag waited until she was a spinster to marry and produce children."

"This is nothing more than a publicity stunt?" Charlie asked, eyeing him carefully.

"Of course it is." Regulus sighed again. "If my father were still alive, he would have refused to hand his son over to some greedy woman."

"Wouldn't that have meant war for the two nations?"

"Perhaps...though, I think a war would have been better to face than a marriage to a woman that I did not love."

Charlie stood there for a second, contemplating a very dark thought.

In all the time that he'd known him, he'd never seen Regulus with a woman. He kept his court like he kept his wine collection...very neat and organized. Only those ordained specifically by the prince were allowed to in his presence. Among the selected few, only three women remained close to them and they were in close relation to him. Charlie speculated it had to do with his father's death. He did not wish to meet the same end. However, that didn't explain the lack of female counterparts. Regulus was at the age that marriage to a Royal should be his top priority, and he presented himself as a child in that aspect. It seemed to Charlie that he didn't wish to marry, nor did he have any intention to do so ever.

Regulus leaned against the wall, bearing the entirety of his misfortune for all to see. Charlie hadn't known him long, but something about his demeanor and the way he carried himself elicited some interesting details that he hadn't even considered before.

"Master Regulus…"

"Regulus, if you don't mind." He looked at him with piercing black eyes. "There is so much corruption in this world that I do not wish to be anchored by it no longer. How is it you are able to live freely?"

"I do not-"

"Do not play coy with me." Regulus pushed himself off the wall and stalked toward him. Charlie froze, unable to handle the situation as he closed in on him. He stopped his pursuit, coming only inches away from him. "I have been watching you."

"Have you now?"

"Why is that I have never seen a woman with _you_?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes, appalled that Regulus would read his mind for his own nefarious games.

Regulus smirked. "I have figured you out."

"You seem fairly certainly with your little infringement, Master Regulus."

"All is fair in the game of love and war." He took a step closer to Charlie. "Now that you know my secret, I expect you to safeguard it."


	3. The Will of James Potter

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **Written for round 10 of Quidditch League Fanfiction League.**

 **Prompt: Chaser 2 - Write about a characters Will.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **3\. [Object] Blanket**

 **13\. [Setting] Graveyard**

 **14\. [Dialogue] "Sure, let's all get matching tattoos and we can dance the polka."**

 **Wordcount: 2787**

* * *

The large assembly of mourners watched silently as the second casket was lowered into the ground with a loud, restraining groan. The graveyard was located in Godric's Hollow, a secluded refuge that seemed perfect at the time of conception. It was a Muggle service; nothing like that could have come from the wizarding world. The caskets were handled with care before being lowered carefully into the cold earth. The acknowledgement of life and death was a strained one, and throughout history, it was believed that the closer one got to their loved one during life, the greater the chances they'd be able to return to them after death. Sirius Black was a firm believer in the afterlife, and as he watched the white marbled casket containing his best friend join the first one, he couldn't help but think back on the time he'd spent with James, and realize just how empty the future now was.

All those late nights staying up late, talking and enjoying each other's company now seemed like a long, distant memory. It felt as if it was only yesterday that they were boarding the Hogwarts Express, setting off for an adventure like every other wizarding child dreamed of. Now, it was a distant dream. Beside him stood Remus Lupin, looking as pale as ever in his battered funeral suit. They'd lost so many that death was certainly a known entity. His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, proving Sirius the sort of illusion he'd been seeking for so long. Since the war began, restlessness was a familiar friend. It was only just last night they were transforming to their Animagus forms and aiding Remus during his transformation. The sound of their combined howls still lingered pleasantly in his ears. Oh, how time eluded them. No matter what, he wished to get it back, to have that one last minute with James to tell him how much he meant to him.

" _I say… we all raid the kitchens tonight!" James' voice rose from the depths of his memories._

 _Laughter soon followed, and Sirius insisted, "Sure, let's all get matching tattoos, and we can dance the polka!"_

Memories like that reminded him of what it truly meant to be alive.

Sirius looked down at the tattoo on his forearm and grinned. The misshapen blob was the first of several that James had drunkenly suggested they get and the only one that was covered up by a heavy glamour. Not that he was ashamed of the tattoo, of course. It was only that he had a reputation to uphold, and any witch who crossed his path wouldn't understand. They'd probably laugh at him, but it was in these fond memories that he found some semblance of closure. It was the only way he could ward off the denial and accept that James was gone — forever. As he stood there, Sirius couldn't help but think back on the promise James made with him before his untimely death, forever cementing the idea that his best friend was truly gone.

" _You must promise me something, Sirius," James Potter told him as they stood inside the small nook of his kitchen._

 _Lily was nowhere to be found, but if she were to rear her head and eavesdrop on them, he wanted their conversation to be a happy one. They were in the middle of celebrating the new year, and they could hear Harry's happy shrieks filling the home. Sirius had been the sort of confidant he'd needed, These were troubling times, and any mention of the macabre would surely provoke the witch. Calming her was only half the battle. James only wanted Sirius to understand._

" _Anything," Sirius told him in a dark, hushed tone. "Anything at all, James."_

 _James didn't so much as bat an eye when he said, "If I were to die, I don't want you to mourn me."_

" _What the hell are you talking about?"_

" _Mourning has never done anyone any good… and I don't wish for my loved ones to mourn for me. Instead, celebrate my life. Promise me, Sirius. It's the only thing I've ever wished for, after all this time."_

Sirius could still remember the exact expression he'd made, as if he and James had the conversation just last night, and heartbreaking denial swept through his being. It resonated deep within him. In the cold grip of fall, he could still feel the penetrating gaze of his best friend, his strong stance. He'd been convinced that his ludicrous idea of death was just a fad that James had picked up. Granted, it was troubling times for them all, and there was nothing wrong with being afraid. Sirius only wished he'd listened to him. Sirius had only one promise to keep. Every time he looked at the descending caskets, the cold clutches of the earth engulfed them, his heart broke, and the more distance was placed between them. A wedge between the living and dead was more prominent. He knew they were in a better place, but it was always going to hurt.

He looked around, noting their morbid expressions. They were all in a state of denial. No one wanted to believe that James and Lily Potter were dead — neither did Sirius. During life, he'd been magnanimous with his friendship. Now, it almost seemed that all the hardships were for naught. It wasn't Sirius who'd broken his promise, it was James: He'd said that he'd see him on the other side of this bloody war.

"Wait," he told the person lowering the casket. "I'd like to place something on the casket."

Sirius didn't wait until he was granted permission. He reached into his coat, took something out, and placed it gently atop of the gold blanket that had been placed there during the memorial service inside the church. An array of emotions ran through him, and it took everything not to break down right then and there. It was the subtle hum that came from the cold casket that haunted him the most. His friend was in there. In his hand was a black rosary, a symbol within his family, and one he held onto since childhood. The rosary had been in his family for generations, and he hoped that in some sensible way, it would protect James and Lily in the afterlife. Seeing as he couldn't keep his promise to not to mourn them, Sirius hoped it would lessen the pain and denial he'd face from this moment on.

* * *

"We will avenge him, Sirius," Remus assured him in a low, hushed tone.

They had some last minute business to attend to in the church, and they were being held up by curious onlookers as they brushed past them. James and Lily had accumulated a vast network of friends and relatives; Sirius could hardly believe how many people showed up to their funeral. Sirius supposed it was all because of the extraordinary phenomenon that had occurred, leading to Voldemort's defeat — they were all excited about it. It seemed no one but them truly wanted to be there for the two lost souls.

"Wherever the bastard is, we will find him."

Sirius didn't wish to be inflicted with such imagery. Wormtail, a man that he once believed to be his friend, his brother, had done something so vile that it left him and Remus completely destroyed and crestfallen. Along with the rest of the wizarding world, Sirius found the treachery of his actions to be unmistakably wretched.

They continued to walk, breezing past an elderly couple. "Where is my godson?"

"Safe," Remus informed him, "though, rumor has it that Albus plans to send him off to relatives."

Sirius stopped walking and turned to look at him. "What?"

"Albus believes he would be better off at his aunt's house. As you know, Lily has a sister, and—"

"Is he mental?" Sirius hissed. "I've met Lily's sister and her husband, Moony. They are the worst people imaginable, and to think that Dumbledore picked them to look after James' son? I simply can't allow it."

"I know James made your Harry's Godfather, but we must put his best interest to heart. I don't like the idea anymore than you do."

Sirius looked at him with hatred in his eyes. "Let's just get this over with." Cleary, the prospects of handing over Harry, the last connection he had to James and Lily, was a horrible idea that neither of them could tolerate.

"You have no say over that, Padfoot," Remus said to him in a pained voice. "If we find his will, then we'll learn who James wanted to look after Harry. Perhaps then, Albus will grant you full custody."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "The poor fool had his will written even before the birth of his son? Just how long did he have to plan this?"

Remus took a step back and placed his hands in his pockets. "That is why we're here. Had we found it sooner, we would've known where he wanted to be buried, who would get his belongings. Look, Padfoot. This isn't my first funeral, nor is it yours. Neither of us know how to act. We lost so many, and yet we can't accept what we're faced with. The only thing we can do is see what James wrote in his will and see where it leads us."

"Mental, all of this is absolutely insane!"

Remus gave him a sympathetic smile before combing through the wavering crowds within the church. "Come on. I believe the preacher said to follow the candles."

As per the preacher's order, they found a row of candles leading the way from the main worshipping area to a secluded region of the church. Old ruins from when the church was at its prime were dotted around the rotting exterior of the building. Sirius felt a sensation akin to Apparating. Pure adrenaline rushed through his veins as his entire being was crushed into one point. While they walked, the candles began to glow a mystical blue. The moment they came out of the end of whatever doorway they'd walked through, the candles extinguished themselves altogether.

Though, Sirius was secretly afraid of what they might find, the thought of not finding what they've been searching for haunted his dreams. It was so unlike James to be so secretive, going behind someone's back. The war put a strain on them all. Like an adamant flicker of light, James appeared like a ghost of the past. At first, Sirius couldn't think that James, too, was among the lost. Accepting his death was the hardest thing he had to do. Rage flared within him. He shouldn't be indulging in such appalling thoughts. No part of it, at least in his mind, was deserving of his energy. He felt perfectly content with ignoring the forbidden feelings that continually threatened to overtake him. But, the overwhelming feelings that he'd kept carefully hidden had to stay just that — hidden.

Content with his decision, Sirius quietly picked up the pace and followed Remus. He looked around, coming face to face with a wrought iron door. "Is this it?"

He placed a hand on the door, and it swung open. Whoever lay on the other side welcomed them with open arms, and they both stepped in.

They found themselves in an ordinary room filled with books and parchment. The staggering magnificence of it was enough to throw anyone off their feet. The preacher's office was extensively decorated, filled with a wealth of information that had Sirius speculating his credentials.

The entire room was in complete chaos and disorder. It came as no surprise that this place was hidden. Sirius couldn't place what the secret might be, deciding right then and there not to pursue something he knew Remus would disapprove of. Quietly, they pressed forward, stopping just in time as something heavy and intricately designed came hurtling towards them. With careful alacrity, he dodged the object, watching with curiosity as it soared by and arranged itself on the mantle above the fireplace. A roaring fire of green erupted from the pit, sending flares to thrust forward and land on the golden armchair occupying the space in front of it.

Sirius stood still with an emotionless gaze that only years of unrecognized practice could bring. Perceptive, quick eyes took in the large room. He had moved precisely above a priceless Persian rug, whose embroidery faintly resembled a lotus flower, and something else he couldn't quite place. He had never been one for floral adornments; that specific hobby was only reserved for Pureblood society women, and only if their families permitted it. He looked around. He couldn't help but take in the floral subtlety, the feminine touch and feel. Perhaps, underneath his hard, soulless façade, there was a flowering of light that sought freedom? If so, he would have to keep a careful eye on the preacher. He wouldn't want the corruption to spoil him, now would he?

"Excuse the mess," a voice said behind him.

They turned, coming face to face with the preacher who conducted the funeral service earlier that morning.

A squat man brushed past them, undeterred by the mountains of books and ancients works in his office.

"I hadn't much time to clean up."

"How did you ever come by all this?" Sirius asked.

"Well, my son, when you've lived as long as me, you come to collect a few trinkets. I've worked with the European Ministry of Magic for several decades before finding my passion in religion."

"Just how old are you?"

Before the preacher could answer, Remus stopped him. "We're here to discuss the Last Will and Testament of the late James Potter. We were under the impression that he'd written one years before his death, and we would like to examine it, if you don't mind."

"Yes, there were some last minute inquiries about the estate of the late James Potter," Preacher Nathaniel said with a stern expression. "You are correct, my son. Mr. Potter orchestrated a Last Will and Testament some years before his death, and I've recently discovered it going through a few things in my office."

"Just how many years?"

The preacher appeared to be thinking, and when he finally revealed the answer, Sirius flipped out. "Three years, it seems," he'd said.

"Three years." Sirius remained baffled at the idea James had written a will at such a young age. It was during a time of one's life where they should be out enjoying themselves, getting married, and having children. The fact that death was a prominent thought in James' mind didn't surprise Sirius at all. What did was that James was ready for it. "What does this will of his entail?"

Preacher Nathaniel looked between them. "That is why were are here, is it not?" When neither gave him an appropriate answer, he continued. "Please, sit down. I understand the trials you have faced, and dealing with the death of a loved one can be, for lack of a better word, overwhelming. It appears Mr. Potter simply wanted for nothing. He only wished for people to rejoice his life and not dwell on the unfortunate circumstances that came of his death. From what I've been able to decipher, he's left a considerable fortunate to his son. As the Godfather, you now have jurisdiction over the rest of his estate." He told them the formidable truth.

He picked something indistinguishable from his desk, raised it slightly, and waved it. Every article and loose piece of parchment began to accumulate together into a neat little pile until it was stacked upon his dark, cherry wood desk. The preacher watched with boredom as his study inexplicably organized itself. Empty brandy glasses levitated in the air, and bottles of hard liquor and other alcoholic beverages soared through the air and landed in the back corner in their respectable places. Chairs moved against the wooden floor of the study with harshness as the curtains of the single window moved itself back into place. The entire study had been bewitched to return to its original cleanliness prior to when it was made a complete mess.

Sirius looked at the preacher as if he was being introduced to magic for the first time.

A piece of parchment came floating toward them, and a flicker of fear ran through Sirius. Realization dawned on him as if the weight of what his best friend wanted suddenly dropped on top of him. Although it pained him that James wasted the life he was given worrying about his death, Sirius was finally able to understand why he did it.

After all, every life is worth remembering.


End file.
